


may this be our mixtape.

by Prettything_uglylie



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Career Ending Injuries, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Collins/Farrier (Dunkirk), M/M, Minor Injuries, Post-Canon, Post-Dunkirk Evacuation, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Triple Drabble, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26607007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettything_uglylie/pseuds/Prettything_uglylie
Summary: He shook his head lightly, realizing like a man drowning or like he was choking up the oil as though caught in his lungs that he wants Alex to kiss him, wants to feel the warm plush press of his lips against his own chapped tiers.--- that challenge where you put music on and write as you listen, yeah I did three of those!
Relationships: Alex/Tommy (Dunkirk)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	may this be our mixtape.

**Author's Note:**

> while i'm not sure if the Dunkirk fandom is still alive nor ever was, here is something to contribute and that I hope you like! it's sort of nonsensical lol

**1.** _got you shackled on my embrace._

**7 years x Latch**

**\- Lukas Graham & Sam Smith**

His screams are loud, echoes through the open slot of the beaches and Alex hooks his arm into the crease of Tommy's elbows desperately. Alex has seen loss, has seen it in it's most honest form and grief is not new either but dragging Tommy back is a new feeling, dragging him from the sunken boat, heels scrapping in the dirt, creating trenches with his boots - boots that Alex had noticed one of the soles were prodding through, the tongue falling out. 

He presses his lips to the screaming boy's temple, feeling the shake under his hands and the struggle against his arms but Tommy is such a skinny boy and Alex is sure he could lift and carry him. His temple tastes like salt and the skin is wet, Alex isn't sure if it's tears or the sea's waves that have sullied Tommy's pretty face with their aggression.

They don't even know The Man's name - _Gibson's_. 

Alex assumes it doesn't matter and for the umpteenth time he wonders _how are you going to survive this, Tom? How? ~~Maybe, you need me.~~_

"He's dead, Tom." He says instead, shaking him and hoping he'll see it, that he'll feel the loss well enough to silence up. It's the loudest he's ever heard Tommy and it scares the shit out of him. "He's gone." 

_I'm not leaving,_ he doesn't say. 

They both know it anyways. 

* * *

**2.** _our minds are troubled by the emptiness._

**youth**

**\- daughter.**

He isn't sure how to live without Alex. Tommy Atkins gets shot in the knee and it's enough for them to send him home, unable to run or be much physical use, he is another soldier who they can't use, and while it should fill him with hope and relief, he feels weirdly raw as he wants to beg Alex to come with him. 

It comes to him in dreams, imagines taking Alex's broader hand into two of his shaking own and pressing a kiss to those hands that can do so much wear-and-tear and he imagines kissing the knuckle before saying, "Come with me. Escape with me." 

Alex had sat beside his bed for two days and when he woke up, a nurse had told him that even under gunfire, Alex had dragged him unconscious back to their camp and had screamed for a medic until his voice had gone raw. 

He knows he would have wanted to, would have said with that wry smile that drives those same nurses crazy but the one he gets genuinely, 'Can't, Tom. They'd find out.' 

He doesn't know when he stopped minding being called 'Tom' by Alex. He doesn't know who _they_ are, just as well as he knows the millisecond where his insides went warm when Alex called him Tom or the _they_ exactly as they are. The people who will tear them apart. 

He goes home to his mom who he loves more than anything in the world and he tells her _I met someone._

He never gives her a name and she understands. 

She always understands. 

* * *

**3.** _it's so simple but we can't stay / overanalyze the game /  
_ _would it really kill you if we kissed?_

**drive**

**\- halsey.**

Their bunks are pushed together, they make the move and some do stare, call them pansies and queers in snarling voices but a few of the nurses scold those same boys that _shellshock does weird things to boys like that._ and _sometimes you get closer than expected_ but others understood it. 

Tommy may never forget the look in the pilot's eyes when Collins had said to him in the line for food one day, aiming for comforting but coming off self-wounding, "It's not weird, you know? Farrier and I used to be like the two of you - " 

He had swallowed then, biting back nasty tears in those wide blue eyes and Tommy had felt weird - seen, revealed, embarrassed in some way worse than being caught with his pants down. He hadn't answered Collins, he has no expertise with grieving widow-types. He doesn't know who Farrier is. 

He doesn't know. 

He knows one night Alex had whispered his name into the dark and he had tilted his head back to let the other know he was awake and Alex had commanded, "Slide the mattresses together." 

He had done it without knowing why and in their way to sleep after, Alex had pulled him into him, lying between his legs and face pressed into the tuck of his neck.

Alex had placed a kiss to the side of his head one night when they were both too awake - he didn't ask, didn't want to risk not having it again. 

"You ever kiss a bloke before, Tom?" Alex had whispered directly into his ear, hand hot on the dip of Tommy's slight back and his voice had been so quiet, you would not be able to hear it even in the quiet corridors or the barracks hidden away. 

He shook his head lightly, realizing like a man drowning or like he was choking up the oil as though caught in his lungs that he wants Alex to kiss him, wants to feel the warm plush press of his lips against his own chapped tiers. 

"Me either." Alex chuckled like it was funny, like the tension wasn't there, like they both didn't want it. His hand began to rub small circles into the small dip of the younger boy's back with it still hanging in the air. 

He knows the message _I would really like to kiss you_ is still sitting there. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a Fionn Whitehead kick so if you see me post Bandersnatch fic next, then no you didn't ❤️️
> 
> I hope you liked this! Let me know if I should do a part 2 with other ships or this one and kudos are great too!


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